


Vanilla Scents

by dumbbottomenergy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Complete, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Relapsing, Romance, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbbottomenergy/pseuds/dumbbottomenergy
Summary: Bell is slipping.Living at home is hard. With depression creeping up on you, a dark heavy weight on your shoulders, with anxiety trapping her heart between their sharp, bony hands, Bell finds that even breathing is a daunting task at times.Bel is sinking.Running away from problems, hiding in the shadows of her failures, haunted by the toxicity of her past, Bel can't find a safe place to land. She finds herself questioning more and more what the beating in her chest truly means as she fails to claw her way to safety.Bel is drowning.





	1. Make Me Forget

I could feel myself breaking. Bits and pieces of the mask I’ve put on falling apart, and it makes my heart run marathons, my brain working on overdrive, and breathing was getting increasingly harder by the second. 

_ Suffocating. _

Maybe that’s how I found myself here. Hot, sweaty, sticky. The pounding from the bass competes with the pounding of my heart and I almost can’t hear my thoughts.  _ Almost.  _ Albeit muffled, the words from earlier are still running through my head. Shot after shot, glass after glass, alcohol seems to be slowly dulling the words in my head. 

_ You’ll never support yourself. You’re not going back to school. I’m tired of taking care of you. _

I knew that every word was true. College-dropout. Living on the couch. Eating take-out more than I’d like to admit. Hell, I don’t even leave the house. The money in my checking account dwindling down to nothing faster than I could blink. 

It had only been a couple of months. Maybe two? Not counting the summer. My family was pretty indifferent to me leaving. They’re older and never really regarded college as necessary. I had been the one to force it. The one who  _ insisted  _ that if I don’t go, I’ll never make something of myself. 

I threw back another shot of lime vodka. It burned my throat the entire way down, settling like rocks in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was the guilt. The guilt of begging my dad to pay for my semesters, for my mom working extra shifts to send me to the fancy out-of-state school because “I don’t want to stay in Alabama. I hate it here.” 

But look where I am now. Back in Auburn, a failure. Drowning out my sorrows in alcohol like the pathetic, worthless bitch I am. 

It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out I’m underage and kicks me out. I’m actually amazed the fake ID got me this far considering I’d never used it before. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

I’m not sure what pushes me onto the dance floor. Was it the pain in my heart slowly subsiding? Was it the guilt being drowned out by the sting of vodka; the harsh voices slowly getting more and more muffled? Maybe it's just the fact that I am so tired, and the music is so loud and I am feeling everything and nothing and the thought that maybe grinding against some hot, sweaty bodies would help me forget. 

I’m not sure.


	2. Hot and Heavy

The music was loud, and I couldn’t really think. Maybe it was the alcohol, loosening the string tied around my anxieties. Maybe it was the way she moved on the dance floor, creamy skin peeking through her form-fitting shirt, or maybe it was the way she dropped to the floor with such ease, crawling back up, making me think of all the amazing feats that body could do. 

Whatever it was, I am incredibly grateful. Because somehow, I am here. In a filthy public restroom in the back of the club, door locked, pushing and grinding my body against hers. 

And I can’t help but finally feel better. I can’t hear the words, finally having died down to a low incomprehensible mumble drowned out by her loud, pleasure-filled moans. 

The moves of our bodies are desperate, aching, for some sort of release, but I don’t give in. I won’t allow that luxury. I want this to last for as long as I can make it. I don’t want to hear those thoughts. Don’t want to feel that pain. 

The fear drives me to push closer, grind harder, kiss deeper. She doesn’t seem opposed and as her hands tighten around my fingers, I swallow her whimpers as a hot tongue explores the deepest darkest caverns of my mouth. 

Hot hands roam my body, sending sparks that pulse through my veins. 

_God, she’s hot_.

Her wet warm tongue running up my neck; slow and teasing. I shudder. Oh, _fuck._

The pleas echo against the bathroom walls and I would give anything to get her out of those tight clothes. My hands run down her body, following the curves with my hand, slowly and carefully. It’s getting her all worked up and somehow she keeps exceeding my expectations. I can’t get enough of her mouth, of her body, of her. 

“Let’s go back to my place.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Hi beans! I hope you've had a lovely day! I really hope you enjoy this new story, it was really fun to write! 🐾🤍


	3. Don't Stop, Give Me More

When I was younger, I had held up the idea of my first kiss, of my first time, upon a pedestal. I always said I would save it for someone I really liked, someone I wanted to be in a relationship with. It didn’t have to be long term, but I certainly wasn’t going to waste it on just anybody. 

Ha. 

The floor was cold underneath me, but her body was giving me all the heat I needed. Her tongue, her lips, her fingers… breathing life into me, making me forget. Covering pain with pleasure; my mind is turned off. I’m not thinking, just reacting. Just moving with her. Following her body with my own. 

She is my toy. Like sexy amnesia. And in the morning, I’m probably going to regret those words. In the morning, I will regret this whole night, but right now, I could care less. 

Her fingers curling, and the feeling of satisfaction is bursting at the seams. My body curls and scrunches up like a shriveled raisin, feeling tight and strained but also hot, and fiery and so-very good. 

I relish in the pain. 

Hot, sloppy kisses and uncoordinated lustful movements fill the night; we are too caught up in each other’s bodies. The smells of her vanilla skin, the feeling of her body on mine fogs my mind and pushes out any rational thought. 

There are quick, hot tongues exploring the deepest parts of our mouths. There are fingers shoved deep inside, pleasure coursing through my body. Loud moans screamed into the warmth of her mouth, eyes rolling back so far, all I can see is darkness and all I can feel are her fingers inside me, curling and hitting a bundle of nerves, breathing life into parts of my body that haven’t been touched like this,  _ pleasured  _ like this. 

I don’t ever ask her to stop. I don’t ask her to slow down, I don’t ask for a minute to catch my breath. My body, my lungs, my head is screaming to breathe, to obey its demands and its needs but I push it away. What I  _ need  _ isn’t to breathe. It isn’t to get a glass of water or to take some time to let the blood flow to the places where it’s needed. 

  
I need to forget. I need her to help me- no,  _ make  _ me forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Hey beans! Please, give Bel a hug. She needs it. See you tomorrow with another update! Have a lovely day, stay safe!


	4. I Know This Is Wrong, But...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> All I have to say is... if you have sex, pls use protection. THX, BYE. I LOVE YOU.

When I wake up in the morning, I can’t feel the warmth. Well, I can, but it’s not like last night. There is no hot body laying down next to me. The sweaty, sticky, sweetly scented body that I fell asleep with, is gone. She’s been replaced by a seemingly innocent, smiling, glasses-wearing cute woman dressed in hello kitty pajamas; reading a book with a mug of something I can’t make out, and a plate of untouched pancakes sitting next to her. 

“Um,” My mouth is dry and I am honestly at a loss for words because this, she, isn’t anything like the person I had mind-numbing, alcohol-induced sex with last night. Speaking of, my head is starting to hurt. 

Apparently, my words are a jolt to her system because she jumps and her book falls down, closing fast, effectively losing her page and cutting off any reading she was previously doing. 

“You’re awake!” She looks so happy. Why the fuck is she so happy?

“I, uh, I made pancakes. And, I thought you might like something to drink because you’re probably dehydrated. But I didn’t know if you liked coffee or tea, and I was going to make both, but then I was like “don’t be stupid,” ya know, and so, uh, here’s some water.” She holds the mug out, curtly and awkwardly, after some rambling. 

Shy, and timid, and those square glasses, perched on her nose gives this sense of dorkiness and nerdiness and, at another time in my life, I would’ve been all over that. 

Part of me thinks that if I wasn’t such a failure and a drop-out and a lazy bum then maybe, _maybe_ , we could be together. Maybe go on a date. But then images of her naked, sweaty body are flashing through my mind and the thoughts are slowly started to fade back into existence, and they are yelling and screaming and god, I just wanted it to last a little longer. 

Thoughts about her last night are still fresh. I used her as a toy to make my feelings go away. The shame, the guilt is rising up, and it burns in my throat and- _oh._

I feel myself rising up, the blanket falling, my nude body being bitten with crisp cold air, and I feel myself running. And then puking. In the sink. _All over her dishes._

Great. 

I can feel her presence behind me but I just can’t stop. I can’t stop the bile from exploding out from my mouth, harsh pathetic noises leaving me, the sour sting of my throat, the disgusting taste. The tears, _fuck_. 

I got drunk. Used a fake ID. Went to a fucking bar. I’m 19! This isn’t me. And I used her, I used her like she’s a plaything and not a real person with real feelings and damn it. _Damn it_. Not to mention I lost my virginity to a total stranger, but what does that matter? 

What matters now? 

I feel a hand rub soothing circles into my back, and it makes me cry harder because she’s so nice. She’s too nice. And I hate myself for what I did. No one deserves to be treated that way. 

“I’m sorry.” I cry, somewhere between the vomit and the tears and it doesn’t sound comprehensible to me, but apparently, she gets it because she says it’s okay and continues to rub my back while I cry and vomit into her stainless-steel sink. 

  
  
  


“Have you… ever seen ‘Ghost’?”

“Of course! It’s a classic. My mom made me watch it as soon as I was old enough.” 

“Your mom sounds like a smart lady.”

“Yeah.” 

After the vomiting incident, Ryan, that’s her name, offered to let me use her bathroom and shower to wash up. An hour and a half later, I am sitting on her bed wearing some sweats that she was kind enough to let me borrow. 

I’ve noticed that most of her closet has shades of brown or beige with a couple of soft pinks and blues scattered around. It kinda reminds me of trees and nature in a weird way. It’s unusual, but it feels really comfortable and soothing. 

The mug of hot chocolate she made is still warm in my hands and I figured out that the vanilla scent I liked so much is part of a bath and candle set that she buys. The candle is lit in her room and the soft scent swirls around us and I feel like I can drift off to sleep right here, wrapped up in her clothing, her warm body next to mine, the hot chocolate she made coursing through my blood. 

“Do you live here alone?” I ask, curious as to why nobody has walked in or interrupted us yesterday. I actually haven’t seen a trace of another person anywhere in the small apartment, but then again, it’s not like I was particularly looking for anything. 

“I used to have a roommate, but she recently moved in with her boyfriend. I can afford this place on my own though so it’s not a big deal.” 

“That’s pretty cool. Having this whole place to yourself, I mean.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Sometimes it gets kinda lonely though, ya know?” 

I nod. I know loneliness all too well, but I don’t want to tell her that. I don’t want to say anything wrong. 

“Guess you’ll have to come over often.” She says casually, and I can feel the heat rising up on my face and when I turn to look at her, she just shoots me a subtle wink, bringing her mug up to her lips and taking a sip. 

  
  


The rest of the day and part of the evening is filled with lots of movies and hot chocolate and maybe just a little bit of kissing. 

The thoughts don’t bother me. 


	5. I'm Done

Later that same evening when I arrived home, Carlan, my roommate, was waiting for me on the couch. Her body limp and her head back, eyes trained on the ceiling. She didn’t even look up when I walked through the door. 

She only greeted me with a quiet, “So you’re back.” 

It was more a statement than a question. 

Everything in her body language screamed not to talk so I swallowed any kind of greeting and sat down on the floor across from her. Her eyes stayed on our off-white ceiling. 

“Do you know that it hurts to see you wasting away like this every day?” Her words were no louder than a whisper but they sounded clear as day to me. It shook me to my core to hear the crack in her voice. 

“I’m s-” 

“Don’t…” Her head snapped up, eyes burning daggers into mine. “Don’t speak.” Everything was tense as she stared at me. Hatred? Burned in her pupils. 

After some very strained seconds, she threw herself back into the couch. “I’m tired, Bel.” 

Her voice was barely audible. “I hate the way you’re acting right now. I know you’re depressed and I know you’re not supposed to say that to a depressed person, but, god, I hate you right now. I hate myself for feeling it.” 

I could feel the familiar feeling, the burn in my throat, my eyes filling with water, but nothing came out. Bottle it up, swallow it down. Not here, not now. I keep my mouth tightly shut and just listen to her words; letting them crawl under my skin, every syllable a stab to my soul. 

She sits up to look at me, her green irises, usually soft and caring, are empty and dull. I can’t help but feel responsible. The guilt bubbles up inside me. 

“I paid my half of the rent for the next three months. I’m taking a leave of absence for work. I have to leave. I’m going to stay with my parents up in Arizona. I think we both just need some time and space.” She stands up from the couch, her whole body weighed down by exhaust. This is the first time I really noticed. 

On her way to the door, she stops by my side and wordlessly squeezes my shoulder. I turn to look up at her, but she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are trained on the door. Of course, she wouldn’t want to look at me. She hates me.

The sound of the door clicking closed echoes through my mind long after she’s left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Thoughts on Carlan? I tried to write her as a morally grey character so you could kind of see where she's coming from, but also it's pretty valid to hate her too. (I personally don't like her for reasons later on in the story.)


	6. Don't Talk, Just Scream

As the dark blanket of night covers the sky, I sit down on the couch, eyes focused on the off-white stained ceiling, heart thumping loudly in my chest. 

My stomach cries out for some kind of nourishment, the odor emanating from my body calls desperately in need of a shower. 

Pathetic. Really pathetic. And lazy. Stupid. I’m the reason why she left.  _ This  _ is the reason she left. I know I should make myself better, more appealing maybe, but I don’t. I sink deeper into the couch and just stare. Letting my mind drift off to wherever it wants to go. Letting the guilt, anger, sadness, shame, wash over me. 

I deserve this.

  
  


I find myself immersed in the loud, sweaty, sticky sea of people. The smell of sweat and sex floods my senses until I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s suffocating, but somehow it helps because I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to live. 

I don’t know why I came back here. You’d think I would have more reservations after my best friend just left but I just want to drown myself in something other than helplessness. Feel something other than guilt. 

So I dowse my mind in alcohol; letting it take over my inhibitions and let it take control. I don’t want control. I don’t know what I’d do with it, and that terrifies me. 

I’m tired. Tired of living, tired of breathing, tired of hearing my heartbeat but feeling like it’s not mine. I just want it all to stop. At least for a little while. 

If you could turn your feelings off, wouldn’t you? 

The bass shakes me to my core, my entire body vibrating with the music, the multi-colored lights blinding me. My voice, my screams, my thoughts don’t feel like mine. I am consumed by the alcohol. 

The thoughts are all there. Drifting around my head, bouncing around, but none stick. I feel unfocused, numb, but good. It’s not a bad feeling. Just a weird one. 

I completely give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Hey, Bel... WHAT ARE YOU DOING? 
> 
> Stay safe, beans.


	7. I'm Not Leaving

Don’t ask me how, but Ryan made her way to my apartment and somehow at 5 am, I end up showered, and semi-sober, chamomile tea slowly washing away some part of the massive amount of drinks I had, and her soft voice bringing me back from the edge. 

“Any more tears?” She whispers, handing me a soft tissue. The pristine whiteness of it contrasts with the dull off-white of the walls. Her place is much nicer. 

“I think between now and this morning, I’m all cried out.” The words tumble off my lips, no real tone or emotion put into them. My head feels like a low hum and my eyes feel droopy from crying and dancing and drinking. 

The vanilla is soothing. 

Before I know it, I drop my head on her shoulder and softly smell her neck. The soft warm smell washes over me and I feel more tears leave my eyes. 

“Rosabel?” 

“Call me Bel. I hate Rosabel.” I mumble and I can feel her nod. Then I feel her warm hand slip into mine and I push my face further into her neck because she’s so warm and so soothing and so sweet and I really like every part of her so much and I can’t get enough. 

Maybe it's exhaustion or the leftover buzz from the alcohol or just the sheer force of the events that have happened. It’s been a hell of a day. Is it so bad that I just want to hold on to her a little longer? 

“Can you stay?” I ask. The craving and longing and the loneliness settle back into my bones and I hate it and she makes all that go away. I don’t feel so alone when she’s here. 

“Yeah.” I feel her head, rest gently on mine and I smile into her shoulder. “I can stay.” 

  
  
  


The morning sun settles high in the sky, it’s rays are amplified by the bedroom window and that’s what wakes me up. I groan and lay back down, feeling drowsy and weighted down, but when I attempt to sit up I notice it’s a physical weight and not a mental one. 

Ryan is sleeping on top of me. 

Well not completely on top, but her head is on my stomach and she’s sleeping horizontally in perhaps the weirdest and most uncomfortable position I’ve ever seen and I wonder if she’s gonna be alright when she wakes up. 

I don’t want to wake her. She looks so peaceful and relaxed and I’m sure she’s exhausted. So I try my best to shuffle out from under her as best as I can, trying to slip a pillow in as my replacement. The movies make it look so easy. Plus, I’m hungover and tired and not graceful, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when she wakes up and mumbles something incoherent. 

“Sorry, I was trying not to wake you,” I whisper. Talking at a normal volume feels forbidden this early in the morning. 

“All good. Need to pee anyway.” Her words are slurred with sleep and her movements are sloppy and uncoordinated as she tumbles off the bed and into my bathroom.

I move my hair out of my face, putting it up into a messy ponytail before looking around the room. Empty mugs on the floor, along with a bowl of leftover popcorn kernels and my laptop is left open, on sleep mode. 

Maybe she was watching something before she fell asleep? I definitely know I went to sleep first. I remember her calling me old and then I smacked her with a pillow before rolling over. I remember drifting off to the sound of her melodic laughter. 

She comes out of the bathroom, brushing her teeth with a toothbrush I gave her last night, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my pajama shorts. The look is so domestic and casual and content that I almost feel like maybe this place can be a home again, and not just an apartment filled with the worst memories of myself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> A one-night stand, into something more?? Maybe? Hmmmmm...... 
> 
> Stay safe, beans. I love you.


	8. Friendship

When I came into the kitchen, Ryan had set out two plates on the table with roasted potatoes with tofu and vegetable scramble and she was bent over looking through the fridge for something. 

My heart nearly stopped. And it wasn’t because of the food. 

Our laughter echoes through the kitchen as we eat and tell each other the worst jokes we can think of. It’s freeing to laugh and feel relaxed. It’s freeing to be with her. 

“Hey, so, can I ask something?” Ryan mumbles, pushing food around her plate. Her eyes don’t meet mine. My heart feels very loud and heavy in my chest. 

“Sure,” I don’t mean it. I should’ve said no. I have a feeling that whatever it is, isn’t good. 

“Can you tell me about what happened last night? Like, why you were upset and stuff?” 

_ No. If I tell you that I’m a college drop-out, sad, pathetic, and a living disappointment you won’t want to be around me, and I really like you. _

I don’t say that though. That’d just be an invitation for her to exit my life forever. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it if that’s okay?” I say instead, my appetite lost a long time ago. I am merely just pushing food around. My mom would have a fit if she could see me now. 

“Yeah, of course.” Her warm hand covers mine like a blanket, and I feel compelled to look up at her soft features. 

She’s smiling and even though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, I can tell she’s being genuine. She’s being sympathetic and patient and it means something. 

“Thanks.” 

  
  


I’m walking down the hall when I see it. I stop, frozen in place. The guilt and her words echoing and haunting me. 

_ “I need a break.” _

_ “God, I hate you.”  _

They feel loud and scary in my head. Everything is only amplified by the framed picture of us at Time Square staring me in the face. 

There we were, in a flood of what felt like a million people, moon high in the sky, counting down to New Years. It was one of the best nights of my life. And now, we aren’t even friends anymore. 

I gently take the picture off the wall; feeling the cool glass under my warm touch, relishing in the simple black frame, the amazingly clear and focused picture taken by my friend with their professional-grade camera. I am holding it, cherishing it, when a familiar voice snaps me back to reality. 

I jump, shocked, and the framed-picture falls to the ground, face-down. The sound of shattering, the image of a thousand little glass shards scattered across the hardwood floor, makes me wince. 

Ryan gasps and I can hear frantic apologies, but everything seems rather far away. Like the world keeps moving and I’m stuck in slow-motion. I don’t register the tears until I can feel her warm hands on my face, but even then I don’t react. I just stare. 

Stare at the shattered remains of my relationships. 

  
  
  


“Talking about it might help you feel better. Ya know? To get it all out?” 

“I already said no.” 

“I know that bu-”

“Can you just drop it!?” 

Silence. 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

A door closes. 

  
  
  


_ Titanic  _ plays in the background on my laptop screen. Ryan and I are sitting in my bed, side by side, not speaking. The air that surrounds us is tense. Full of unsaid words, longing glances, and regret. Lots of regrets. 

Oddly enough, she is still here. I expected her to leave after my rude outburst earlier. I heard the door close and thought she was gone for good, but half an hour later, she walked back in with grocery bags, set them down in the kitchen and sat back down next to me. 

She wordlessly handed me a chocolate bar, pulled her own out of her pocket and silently she chewed her bar and didn't move from my side. I felt so numb, so confused. There was a low hum in my head. I wanted to cry or scream, but nothing came out. 

Why? 

Why did she come back? Why didn't she go back to her own apartment and enjoy the rest of her day? She doesn't have to be here. She has her own home. A luxury apartment, compared to my little hovel but still she chose to be here and watch movies on my tiny laptop screen. 

Why? 

The questions itch under my skin until I can no longer hold them in. 

”Why did you come back?” 

Ryan turns to look at me, her face illuminated by the light of the screen. 

”Hmm?” 

”Why would you come back? You don't have to be here. Your apartment is so much nicer and cleaner and a thousand times better, so why would you come back here?” 

“Seemed to me like you could use a friend.” She says. Simple, casual as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. As if it wasn’t meant to hold any type of emotional significance and yet her statement brings warmth to my body, soothes my nerves, and I can feel a smile grow on my face. 

_ Friend.  _

“Thank you.”

  
  
  


My heart pounds loudly in my chest for what feels like the hundredth time that day but this time, it's not a panic attack. 

It's a tickle attack. 

She ambushed me when I exited the bathroom and started tickling. When I tried to make the case that she had an unfair advantage, all I got was a smug, 

”Be prepared for anything.” and she has been mercilessly tickling me ever since. It's evil. She's evil. But also very playful and fun and I feel like a kid again.

”Please!” I shout, trying and failing to push her hands away from my sides, but she only continues with her torture. 

The feeling of laughter is a new and very welcome feeling.

  
  


Seeing her basked in the morning sun for the second time, laying down next to me, content and happy makes me feel lighter than I have in months. 

In the last 48 hours, I have felt happier and safer and more alive than I have felt since I left school. Watching stupid movies on Netflix, drinking hot chocolate, watching her make herself at home in my apartment; it all feels so serene.

According to my calendar, it’s Sunday and a part of me knows that she’ll have to go back to whatever reality she has and our happy little bubble will be broken. Part of me screams and craves to keep her here, keep her with me, but another part of me, the more rational one, knows that it is not my right to ask her to stay. She has somewhere to be. I should be grateful she spent so much time here, anyway. 

I feel the duvet move and I start to hear her sleepy groans and it makes my heart swell. 

“Good morning.” I get a slow tired blink in return and after a few moments she mumbles out a “ditto.” It’s the best reply I’ve ever gotten. It could’ve been the fact that I had never gotten that as an answer before or just the fact that it was  _ her  _ answer. Who knows? 

A sleepy yawn escapes and I hear her laugh from beside me. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She reaches out an arm, an invitation to cuddle into her warm body and invade her space. I gladly accept it. 

“Do you have to leave today?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” The answer comes out quicker than I expected and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. I didn’t mean to sound so desperate. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sounds so…” My voice dies as I try to think of the right word. Something that doesn’t make me sound so needy. 

“Desperate?” 

“Yeah…” 

My heart cracks a little in my chest. Now she knows. She knows how stupid and pathetic and clingy I am. She’ll never want to stay; never want to be friends with me again after that. 

“Not that it’s a problem.” 

“What?” 

“ _ I _ don’t want to leave, either.” 

I shoot up, my hand on her chest as I eye her suspiciously. What is she talking about? Everyone wants to leave. Who would want to waste their time on a pathetic, wasting-away nobody like me? 

“You don’t?”

“Not unless you want me to.” 

“I… don’t want you to.” 

“Okay, then.” 

I feel my heart pound heavily as I slowly sink back down into her body warmth, the weight of her words heavy on my shoulders. 

_ I don’t want to leave.  _

What if she doesn’t want to leave now, but I say something to screw it up? What if I do something that screws it up? What if I end up pushing her away like I’ve pushed everyone away? 

What then? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> The wholesomeness in this chapter made my heart happy. Enjoy it while it lasts. Muahahaha. 
> 
> Stay safe, beans.


	9. Sinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!   
> Potentially trigger material. Alcohol Abuse and drunken state. Be safe, beans.

A vanilla candle burns bright in the apartment. I’m alone, but the scent brings back memories of when I wasn’t. When there was someone else, who cared and loved and stayed. 

If you look out the window and to the upper left, you can see the moon. Full and shining. Bright. Constant. 

But I don’t move from my spot. I sit in the dark, letting the memories swirl around my brain, pulling every tear out of my eyes until I can’t cry anymore. Until I can’t breathe anymore. 

I inhale, the vanilla is soft and sweet. She was soft and sweet. 

I held on. I held on as best as I could, but they all end up leaving at some point, don’t they?

And it’s all my fault. 

A week earlier: 

I made a promise. I did. 

I promised. 

So then why,  _ why,  _ am I here? 

The familiar pound of the bass vibrates the entire room. What used to once bring me solitude and escape, now just annoys me. I sit at the bar, but I don’t order anything. I don’t want to be here. I don’t. I should leave. 

I can go home. 

Home. 

Invite Ryan over. Watch a movie. 

The smell of vanilla is so much more inviting than the smell of sex. But… 

_ “I’m moving out, officially.”  _

_ “You’re what? But… you just got back!”  _

_ “I know.” I watch in horror as she tapes another box closed. Brown boxes surround us. I want to knock them all over. I want to scream. I want to cry. “I can’t be here when you start to let yourself go again.”  _

_ “You haven’t given me the benefit of the doubt! Let me prove to you I can be better!”  _

_ She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at me. Just starts to pack another stupid box. Those stupid boxes. How dare she? How dare she not even believe in me? Does eleven years of friendship mean nothing? _

_ “Look at me! Dammit!” I rip the box out of her hands. It hits the wall with the thump, her things flying all over the room. I watch, as her eye twitches. I watch, as she throws down the tape dispenser.  _

_ “I am not going to sacrifice my life to be your caretaker! It’s not my job to watch out for you! You wanna destroy your life, go ahead, just leave me out of it!”  _

_ She pushes me out of the room with enough force that I fall on my ass. Then, her door slams in my face.  _

The night plays on and as I swirl my beer, I can only ask myself what am I doing? Killing time? Being useless? 

Destroying myself? 

I pick my phone out of my pocket and dial Ryan’s number. Maybe we can hang out at her place. 

But the phone rings, and rings… and rings and- no answer. Okay, okay, it’s fine. Just call again. 

But again, no answer. 

I had been doing so well. I have been trying so hard, but the familiar suffocating feeling of loneliness is starting to settle like rocks. Heavy weights bolted around my neck, my hands, my feet. I push back the tears and I try, I try  _ so  _ hard to keep myself afloat, to keep myself at the surface.

But, 

“One vodka tonic.” 

I’m sinking. 

  
  
  


Everything spins. 

No, really. It’s all spinning, like I’m standing on one of those fidget spinners, going round and round and round and there is no end. 

Do I want it to end? 

If I stop spinning, then I am still. If I’m still, I can think. If I can think, the thoughts come back. 

….Keep spinning. 

  
  
  


I dial her number. I don’t know how many drinks I’ve had. I don’t know what time it is. The music is still loud, my head is buzzing and I dial her number. 

_ Brrrrrrr. Brrrrrrrr. Brrrr- The number you have dialed- Click.  _

“Another vodka tonic.” 

“I think you’ve had enough.” 

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.” 

“Ma’am-“ 

  
  
  


She’s here. I can see her. Oh, wow. She’s so pretty. Her face is red, like a tomato. Or a shiny red apple. 

“Hi!” 

She’s pulling me. Her hand is tight around my wrist. Too tight. I don’t like it. 

“That hurts!” 

She’s yelling, she’s shouting. The air is cold. She’s really red. My head is still buzzing. Make it stop. Make it stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Hey, wassup. It's ya boi... the angst monster. Bel, on her downward spiral. I wish I could say it gets better from here. 
> 
> Stay safe, beans. I love you.


	10. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. 
> 
> Bel hallucinates and has triggering flashbacks. It's not too graphic but be aware. 
> 
> Stay safe, beans.

I wake up, not at my apartment. I can immediately tell by pristine walls and neutral colors that I’m at Ryan’s place. 

But why? 

What happened last night? I remember getting drunk. I remember Carlan’s yelling. I remember Ryan showing up. 

Oh.  _ Right.  _ She was furious. I knew she would be. She has every right to be. 

I would be furious too. 

I sit up in her bed, head still heavy and full of regret. I wish I could take back the entire night. 

She comes in a couple minutes later, her shoulders droopy and dark bags accentuate her deep brown eyes. Did she even sleep last night? 

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Everything’s so monotone as she pushes a water bottle into my hand. I can’t read her face. What’d I do? What’s she feeling? 

She looks tired, like Carlan, as she sits on the bed. She doesn’t look at me.  _ She’s not looking at me.  _ God, please look at me. 

“Bel, I... “ She turns to me, her eyes dead and dull as she grips my shoulder. It’s familiar.. Too familiar. Don’t do it. Please, don’t do it. 

“It hurts to see you…” 

_ “Do you know that it hurts to see you wasting away like this every day?”  _ No. stop. Stop it. Don’t say that. 

“I can’t…”

_ “I can’t be here when you start to let yourself go again.”  _ Carlan. Please. Don’t leave again. Don’t leave me all alone. 

“You have…” 

_ “...You wanna destroy your life, go ahead, just leave me out of it!”  _ You can’t do this. You can’t. It’s not fair. It’s not right. You can’t just abandon me. I need you. 

Please. 

No. No. I won’t let her do this. She can’t abandon me. I’ll leave. I won’t give her the chance to say those words.

“No! You don’t want me, fine! That’s fine! I’m going.” 

I feel myself moving, my feet are running, but my mind is moving in slow motion. Carlan, she’s here. She’s packing. Why is she here? Where is- 

Ryan. 

She’s chasing after me. Why? She wants me to leave. She hates me. She doesn’t get to chase after me. Not after she pushed me away. But has she? Not yet. But she will. I know she will. She’s not allowed to. 

I’m tired of being trash that people throw away. It’s not fair. It’s not fair! 

“Bel, wait!” 

“No!” My arms jut out, and I’m pushing. And she’s falling. And I can hear Carlan laughing. I can hear her yelling. Make it stop. 

Make it stop. 

Please, please. 

I run. I run away from the yelling. Away from the laughter. Away from her words. 

I run until it’s quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇 
> 
> If I could just cuddle Bel and give her all the hugs, or like, whatever the hecc she needed, I would. Would you? 
> 
> Stay safe, beans. I love you.


	11. Asking For Help

This is the fourth day I’ve spent on the couch. Or fifth? Who knows? 

I need to shower. Maybe brush my teeth. The empty packs of ramen noodles are piling up quickly. I have no more clean forks. 

The vanilla candle is still burning. The scent is nice. It keeps me somewhat okay. 

I know I’m not okay. I know that I should start taking care of myself. But I don’t know why. I don’t know why it should matter. I don’t know why I should care about myself when nobody else does. What’s the point of getting up and showering? What’s the point of living this life? 

I’ve pushed everyone away. Everyone is a lot better off without me in their lives. 

  
  


There’s a quiet pounding on a door. I think it must be from next door because there’s nobody who would dare come to this apartment. This smelly, broken down hovel. 

But the pounding continues. And it gets louder. And I can’t go back to sleep. 

I fling off the stinky blanket that I have shielded myself in for the last however-many-days-I’ve-been-laying-here and move to yell at whoever is knocking so loudly next door. 

But when I open the door, boiling over with aggravation and anger, ready to give this person a firm piece of my mind, I feel the words die in my throat. 

Ryan is standing there, panic written on her face as she throws herself on me, her arms wrapping around my unwashed frame. 

“God, I was so worried.” 

She was… worried? About me? 

I can feel her tight squeeze, her clean vanilla scent. I want to hug her back. I want to say thank you. Thank you for being here. 

Thank you for coming back. 

  
  
  


Ryan helped me clean. She helped me do my laundry. She helped me cook a real dinner, with vegetables. 

I showered. 

I feel like maybe the beating in my chest means something. 

  
  
  


“Can we talk?” 

I feel my heart start pumping, but I push it away. It’s okay. She came back. 

She’ll come back. I’m safe. 

“Yeah.” 

She takes a deep breath before looking at me. Her brown eyes shine with care. They’re so soft and comforting. I’ve missed her. 

“I care about you. I want you to be safe. And I will not leave. I promise you that.” 

“How did you-” 

“I came by that night. I saw Carlan. I saw her packing. Plus, you were screaming. A lot.” 

“Oh.” 

Shame, and guilt piles up and eats away at me. I can feel it sinking its teeth into my brain. It’s venom pulsing through my veins. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

But what does that mean, if I don’t do anything to change? 

I look at Ryan, sweet and constant. Here. Loving. 

If nothing else, I want to get better. For her. For someone who cares. 

“I… I think I want to get better...but,” I pause. It’s hard to admit, hard to get out. I want to trust her. I want to give her my all. 

“I need help...” 

She smiles, happy and bright, as she connects our hands. 

“Let’s do this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Bel is really bad at communicating. She's trying her best though, and that's all that matters. I feel like out of all my characters, Bel is the least stable. 
> 
> Stay safe, I love you, beans.


	12. Progress

“I’m nervous.” 

Sitting in uncomfortable office lobby chairs, we wait for my name to be called. The cream-colored walls stare back at me with cliché ‘things will get better’ posters. I want to scream that they don’t know that. It’s not guaranteed. Nothing ever is. 

“I’m here. You aren’t doing this alone.” Ryan smiles. She hands me a small handkerchief. It’s cream-colored, like the walls. Only it smells like vanilla. 

It smells like home. 

“Rosabel Carlisle.” 

I inhale, the strong scent of peppermint from the diffuser burns my lungs. I look at the lady, in her sweater and long skirt with square glasses perched on her nose. 

Here I go. 

  
  


Weeks pass, therapy continues and I don’t feel like anything changes. But Ryan says she sees a difference. Ryan says that it’s helping. 

And that makes it a little easier to keep trying. 

  
  


A few months pass and slowly, I start to feel a bit better. I start to feel alive and more stable. I go to work and I do well. I make friends. 

We even go to the movies on weekends. 

I start to feel like a person again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Aaaaaa, Bel, you sweet babey. Keep trying.
> 
> Stay safe, beans. I love you.


	13. This Is Enough

A knock on the door throws off my TV show and I put down my peanut butter toast in favor of checking to see who it is. Since Carlan moved out, it’s just been me. Me and my cat, Lolli. 

“Who is it?” 

“Who else would it be?” The person laughs. Ryan. 

A smile plays on my lips as I move to open the door. Ryan enters, all smiles and excitement as she starts rambling about something school related. Over the months we’ve been friends, I’ve learned a lot; like how she really enjoys school and she’s a total homebody. I’ve learned that her favorite food is instant noodles, and she is a vegan for both ethical and health reasons. 

“I brought this great documentary about the 1920’s from the bookstore. Should we watch it?” 

“I’ll get the cookies.” 

We sit on the couch, side by side, a pale beige blanket and a bowl of chewy store-bought cookies shared between us. 

It’s almost perfect. 

“Lolli, come here, girl.” She jumps up, settles in between our two warm bodies on the couch and as the sweet scent of vanilla wafts through the air, the movie playing on my dinky TV, I think that maybe this is it. 

Maybe this is worth fighting for. Maybe friendship is worth living for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed Bel and Ryan's little journey (mostly Bel's). I wanna say something really quick so stick with me...
> 
> IF you are going through something, remember, that it's okay to feel however you're feeling. You are valid. Your feelings are valid. There are people out there who can and WILL help you. There are people who care. If you need someone to talk to, please don't be afraid to reach out and find someone who you are comfortable with and who wants the best for you.
> 
> IF you are drinking alcohol, BE SAFE. Drink with a group of friends, drink with people you trust. Drink responsibly. DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE, I DO NOT CARE HOW SOBER YOU THINK YOU ARE. DON'T DO IT. PLEASE.
> 
> Okay, that's all from me. I love you. Be safe, beans. Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note 🐇
> 
> Hello, little beans! back with another story! what do you think so far? Thoughts, feelings? Predictions???
> 
> *Updates every day until complete! 🐾🤍


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